Shipyard Girls in Love

by Nancy Revell

  Dorothy huffed her annoyance, before turning her attention to their boss.

  ‘Hey, Rosie.’ Dorothy tried to make her voice casual, but she failed, sounding unusually nervous instead. ‘You know me and Ange are never ones to nose into anyone else’s business—’

  Her comments were met by a blustering of chuckles from the rest of the women.

  Rosie looked at Dorothy and then to Angie with a look of suspicion.

  ‘Or anyone else’s affairs of the heart,’ Dorothy said in as theatrical a manner as possible, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted and by-the-by, when in fact she and Angie had been gagging for days to say something, but hadn’t plucked up the courage.

  ‘Mm,’ Rosie said. ‘And?’

  Angie sat back as if moving herself out of the line of fire should the woman she called ‘miss’ react unfavourably to what Dorothy was about to say next.

  ‘Well, me and Ange,’ Dorothy looked around and glared at her best friend, who was very obviously not supporting her in the way they had discussed, ‘we were walking into town the other night, and we were passing that posh tea shop on Holmeside – what’s the name?’

  Again Dorothy glared at Angie, who seemed to have lost the power of speech.

  ‘Vera’s Café,’ Rosie said helpfully, a smile playing on her lips.

  ‘Yes, that’s the one,’ Dorothy said, encouraged by her boss’s helpfulness. ‘Just up from the docks on High Street East.’

  Another ‘Mm’ from Rosie.

  ‘And,’ Dorothy said, ‘I’m sure my eyes, nor Angie’s – ’ another glare in her friend’s direction ‘ – weren’t deceiving us, but we could have sworn we saw you in there with your policeman friend, Peter?’

  ‘Well,’ Rosie said, taking a deep breath, aware that the women were all observing her with great anticipation, ‘I believe your eyes, and Angie’s – ’ she strained her head so that she could look at Angie, who was now practically hiding behind Dorothy ‘ – were telling you the truth. You did, in fact, see me and my policeman friend Peter in Vera’s café.’

  Rosie didn’t say anything else, but trying her hardest to suppress a smile, just looked at Dorothy.

  Gloria couldn’t hold it in any more and burst out laughing. ‘Ah, Rosie, go on, put the poor girl out of her misery!’

  The relief on Dorothy’s face defeated Rosie’s attempt to suppress her smile.

  ‘Yes, Dorothy, I am, indeed, stepping out with my policeman friend. The one I do believe you like to describe as “scrummy in an older type of way”.’

  Dorothy’s face lit up in delight. Partly because she hadn’t been lambasted for sticking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted, but mainly because this was headline news. Rosie was courting! And what was more, she was courting a copper!

  ‘Congratulations, miss!’ Angie had suddenly reappeared from Dorothy’s shadow.

  Everyone looked at Angie, a little puzzled.

  ‘Why “congratulations”?’ Martha asked, genuinely puzzled.

  ‘Yeh, ya divvy,’ Dorothy said, her relief sounding through. ‘“Miss”, as you keep calling her, isn’t getting married or anything. Well, I’m presuming it’s a bit early for all of that. Or …?’

  Rosie hooted with laughter. ‘It most certainly is, Dorothy. Besides, I hate to spoil any hopes of another wedding, but I’m really not the marrying kind.’

  ‘That is fantastic news, Rosie,’ Hannah said. She was still holding Olly’s hand. He knew better than to intrude on the women’s conversations and was simply happy to be there, though even happier that he was being allowed to hold hands with Hannah.

  ‘So that’s why you’ve not been able to come to the Admiral with us?’ Polly said, before adding, ‘Does this mean we might all finally get to meet him?’

  ‘Oh, now you’re asking!’ Rosie laughed as an image of Peter surrounded by her women welders suddenly skated across her mind. ‘I think I need to go on a few more dates before I put him under all your scrutiny.’

  Just then the klaxon sounded out.

  ‘Saved by the horn!’ Rosie declared as she jumped up from the pallet and dusted down her overalls. ‘Back to work we go!’

  But that didn’t stop her from being bombarded by myriads of questions as they trudged back to the dry dock. She had opened the door a fraction and her women welders were enthusiastically trying to push it open as wide as possible.

  ‘See, we was right!’ Angie sidled up to Dorothy and whispered to her.

  ‘It’s “were right”, Ange. Plural,’ Dorothy corrected. ‘And thanks, by the way, for the moral support! God, talk about being put in front of the firing line. Remind me never to rely on you for any kind of backup.’

  Angie just laughed.

  ‘Aye, why, you know what they say, “All’s well that ends well”. Shakespeare that is, did yer know?’

  Dorothy look impressed.

  ‘Well remembered, Ange! Now I just need to get you to speak properly.’

  As Rosie continued to field questions from them all, including an unusually curious Martha, she looked across at Gloria and rolled her eyes in despair.

  Gloria smiled; she didn’t think she had ever seen her friend look quite so relaxed, or quite so happy, as she had of late.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Jack had heard the emergency klaxon sound out earlier on, he’d sprinted the short distance from Crown’s to Thompson’s, terrified that Gloria might have been in some way involved in whatever had happened.

  He was now standing at the large window of the first floor of the administration building in the exact spot where earlier his daughter had been smoking her way through the lunch break.

  He watched Gloria and the women welders, as well as a small, dark-haired lad wearing thick spectacles, as they sat by the quayside. They were in a row, facing the river, their heads occasionally turning to chat to each other. He thought they all looked in good spirits.

  ‘I take it you’ve got a message to Mac’s family?’ Jack kept his eyes trained on the yard as he spoke. ‘Mac’ was Jim Mackie, the unfortunate man to have had his leg nearly taken off in the accident.

  ‘Yes, all sorted.’ Helen walked over and stood by her father’s side. ‘I’ve sent Marie-Anne to go and tell his wife. She should be there now. He only lives up the road.’

  ‘Good choice.’ Jack was still keeping his eyes peeled on the scene below. ‘Marie-Anne will be able to deal with Mac’s wife – she’s what some would call “of a nervous disposition”, so a woman’s touch will be needed.’

  Helen looked at her father.

  ‘Dad!’

  Her eyes widened with excitement.

  ‘You remembered!’ Helen felt like jumping with joy.

  Jack looked at his daughter with a puzzled expression.

  ‘You remembered!’

  Helen looked around, suddenly aware that they were in the main office and that others could be privy to their conversation.

  ‘Come into your office!’ She still wasn’t used to calling it ‘her’ office in front of her father.

  After shutting the door behind them, she gave her father a big hug.

  ‘You remembered who Mac is – and his wife – and Marie-Anne! There’s no way you could have known. You haven’t seen any of them since before you went away!’

  Feeling a little dizzy, Helen went to sit down behind her desk; missing lunch had made her light-headed.

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’ Jack spoke the words slowly as if it was taking his brain a little longer than normal to digest their meaning.

  He then let out a whoop of laughter.

  ‘Looks like there’s hope for yer old dad yet!’

  After her father left, Helen reached into her handbag and took out another Pall Mall. Having lit it, she took the photograph of her mother and father that was taking up space on her desk and put it away in the bottom drawer. She suddenly felt a deep bitterness towards her mother. Her father had been here at Thompson’s for barely five minutes, and already he had remembe
red people from his past! How much more would he remember if he was working here all the time?

  God, she could strangle her mother with her bare hands. Why couldn’t she have just left well enough alone, and let her father come back to work at the yard where he had spent almost every waking minute of his working life? But, oh no – her manipulating mother had to go and get him moved to Crown’s.

  Did her father not realise that it was a load of old codswallop that he was needed to help with the amalgamation of the two yards?

  ‘Of course he doesn’t!’ Helen said aloud to the empty office as she ground her cigarette into the metal ashtray. ‘He has no idea.’

  As Jack left Thompson’s, he cast one last look over his shoulder towards the dry basin, even though logic told him it was a futile gesture. He wouldn’t be able to make Gloria out at this distance.

  ‘See ya, Alfie,’ Jack shouted out to the young timekeeper, who waved back at him.

  Jack marched along the cobbled lanes back to Crown’s, and as he did so, he felt energised.

  He’d had another memory!

  He just wished he could have stayed working at Thompson’s rather than have to move to Crown’s. Being at Thompson’s this afternoon he’d felt so at home, which made sense after what Arthur had told him about his past.

  He knew the reason why he’d been given the new job. And it made sense that it would be good to have a Thompson’s man already at Crown’s, but the buyout was still a way off.

  More than anything, though, he wanted to be working in the same yard as Gloria. To be near her.

  Since the day of the christening, he’d felt a need – almost a craving – to be with her.

  It shocked him that he could feel such love for a woman he could not even remember. But he did.

  And he wasn’t going to fight it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘I can’t believe that Rosie has got herself a bloke. And a copper at that!’ Angie said to Dorothy at the end of the day’s shift as they walked up from North Sands to a part of the town known as the Barbary Coast.

  ‘I’ve still not forgiven you for chickening out on me,’ Dorothy said in all earnestness.

  ‘Ahh, you’ll get over it!’ Angie laughed out loud before dropping her voice. ‘Not a bad move that, is it? Getting a boy in blue in yer pocket. Never know when you might need one. Especially in Rosie’s line of work.’

  Dorothy threw her friend a look of reprimand.

  ‘Shh,’ she looked daggers at Angie, before whispering in her ear, ‘remember, no talking about the boss’s other job in public.’

  Angie nodded her compliance but thought Dorothy was being both overcautious and overly dramatic, as usual.

  ‘She seems dead happy, though, doesn’t she?’ Angie carried on chatting as they walked along Dundas Street.

  ‘Yes, she does,’ Dorothy agreed, stopping to look in one of the shop windows at a dress that was being put on a mannequin.

  ‘So, Ange, we won’t be hanging about at yours, will we?’ Dorothy always got a little tense whenever they had to ‘just nip’ to Angie’s house, which was always full of feral-like children yelling at the tops of their voices and creating chaos. Dorothy had met Angie’s parents on just a couple of occasions as most of the time she opted to wait outside. Angie’s mother wasn’t exactly over-friendly, but seemed all right. Angie’s father, however, was a brute of a man and put the fear of God into Dorothy.

  ‘Nah, we’ll be in and out in a jiffy,’ Angie said. Lately she had been spending less time at home and more at Dorothy’s where it was much quieter and calmer; Dorothy’s mum and stepdad didn’t bother them – the house was that big they rarely even bumped into them – and there was the added bonus of an indoor toilet and a proper bathroom.

  As Angie and Dorothy walked through Angie’s front door, they were instantly hit by the smell of a roaring coal fire and the usual screeches and screams of Angie’s younger siblings.

  ‘All right!’ Angie called out to her dad over a few bobbing heads playing chase around the house.

  ‘Aye, aye,’ he replied, barely looking up from his paper.

  Dorothy had got to know Angie’s parents’ daily routine over the past year since she and Angie had become firm friends; she knew that her dad would do the early shift at the Wearmouth colliery and that her mam did the late shift at the nearby ropery. Lately, Angie’s mam had been doing quite a bit of overtime, so she hadn’t been about as much. Angie had told Dorothy that she reckoned it worked well as it meant there was less chance of her mam and dad kicking off – something that, by the sounds of it, was a common occurrence.

  ‘Mam gone already?’ Angie asked as she picked up the youngest offspring and smothered the little blonde girl in a barrage of kisses.

  ‘Aye, she’s deeing time and a half today. So,’ Angie’s dad nodded over to Dorothy, who was being used by the other children as some kind of slalom pole to dodge around, ‘if Liz isn’t back in the next five minutes, you’ll have to stay with yer mate here ’n’ look after the bairns.’

  Dorothy immediately shot an anxious look over at Angie.

  ‘Ah, Dad, I’m sorry. Me ’n’ Dor’s got overtime. I’ve just popped back for a few things before we have to get back,’ Angie said without a trace of deceit.

  Dorothy looked at Angie’s father, who was like one of those musclemen pictured on adverts for the local circus under the banner of ‘The World’s Strongest Man’. His arms were like boulders. She could even see the thick veins through the smears of dirt and coal dust.

  ‘Ah, yer a good girl, Angela,’ he said with a wide smile that showed off a surprisingly good set of teeth. ‘Yer a hard worker. I’ll grant yer that. Go on then, get what yer need and bugger off. Yer don’t want to be late. I’ve heard they’re right tight bastards down those yards. One minute late ’n’ yer docked a whole hour.’

  Angie forced a laugh. ‘Yer right there, Dad, “right tight bastards”.’

  As Dorothy quietly exhaled, Angie dumped the baby she was holding into Dorothy’s arms and hurried off out the back to fill her bag with the essentials needed for her night out.

  By the time Dorothy had jigged the baby up and down and made her gurgle and then giggle, Angie had reappeared with her haversack, which was stuffed full to the brim.

  Angie’s dad stood up and to Dorothy’s shock and surprise took the baby from her and gently held her in his huge arms. The baby let rip a loud, excited cry and made a reach for her father’s long moustache that curled ever so slightly at the ends. Seeing him and the baby made Dorothy think of Beauty and the Beast.

  Angie pushed Dorothy out the lounge door, dodging the rest of her young siblings and shouting ‘Ta-ra, Dad,’ over her shoulder.

  ‘Dinnit forget. Take care down them yards,’ her dad shouted by way of a goodbye.

  A few minutes later Angie and Dorothy were back on the main road.

  ‘Bloody Nora, close call there!’ Angie gasped as they hurried down the street and away from the house.

  ‘God, Ange. You’re a good little actress when you need to be.’ Dorothy was secretly breathing a huge sigh of relief that they hadn’t got cornered into playing nursemaids. She didn’t know if she could actually have stuck it there for an entire evening.

  ‘Lifetime of practice!’ Angie was quick to reply.

  As they made it to the end of Dundas Street and turned into St Peter’s View, they slowed their pace.

  ‘So where’s it to be tonight?’ Angie asked, but as she looked at Dorothy she saw that her attention was elsewhere – she looked captivated by something happening down one of the back lanes.

  Angie followed Dorothy’s stare.

  ‘Eee, Ange, it’s your mam!’ Dorothy exclaimed.

  Angie took one glance at her mother and then back at Dorothy, who looked like she was about to shout out a greeting and was raising a hand to wave to her.

  ‘Dor!’ Angie grabbed her friend’s arm.

  At that moment, a tall, young-looking bloke stepped out o
f one of the backyards. He slid his arm around Angie’s mam’s waist and pulled her towards him. The next moment the pair disappeared and the cobbled back lane was once again empty.

  ‘You can let go now,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘Sorry, Dor, I didn’t want my mam to see us.’

  ‘And I bet you she didn’t want us seeing her either,’ Dorothy said quietly. ‘I thought she was meant to be at work?’

  ‘So did I,’ Angie said.

  ‘But you don’t seem that surprised that she’s not.’ Dorothy followed Angie as she started to walk back along the main street in the direction of the Wearmouth Bridge.

  Angie didn’t say anything. Nor did it seem that she wanted to, either.

  As they hurried to catch the tram over to the south side, Dorothy’s only thought was that Angie’s mother must be completely out of her mind.

  You didn’t do the dirty on a man like Angie’s father.

  No way.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It had just gone six o’clock and Gloria and Jack had managed to snatch a half-hour together after the end of the shift. They were huddled in the porch of the historic fourteenth-century St Peter’s Church. It was within a stone’s throw of Thompson’s, but thanks to the blackout they could have been in the middle of nowhere.

  Gloria had purposely chosen this place to meet as not only did it provide them with shelter and a modicum of privacy, it held so many memories for them both. It was where they had met as courting teenagers, and again when their love had been rekindled last year.

  They’d been chatting about the terrible accident at work; Gloria had told Jack word had gone around the yard that there had been some fault with the crane pulley, which had caused the metal plate to slip.

  ‘God, I was so worried something had happened to you.’ They were both quiet for a moment. Gloria was happy simply to be in Jack’s arms, but she could tell that the man she loved was unsettled.

  After a few moments Jack suddenly sat forward, his hands clenched together.

  ‘I can’t keep doing this!’ he said, staring straight ahead at the stone wall. ‘We can’t go on like this, Glor,’ he implored, turning his head to look at her. ‘It feels so wrong to be skulking about like this.’